Out of the Heart of Darkness
by KillersXInXIce
Summary: When a mission to take down the remainders of Itex goes wrong, Max ends up trapped in a monster-infested jungle with a blast from the past as her unlikely companion. Can they keep one another safe, or will they continue to clash as enemies?
1. Chapter 1

**First and foremost, this is a piece made from correspondence with another author here, AM83220, who provided the vast majority of the plot and patiently proofread and edited this chapter several times for me. I'm thrilled to give it life with his help and guidance.**

**Also, I obviously don't own Maximum Ride. James Patterson, tragically, has all canon control.**

**Onward!**

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><p>The nighttime watch in the central surveillance room was, oddly enough, the more interesting shift for security to take on. While the monitors boasted minimal movement one evening after another, it also seemed to serve as a sort of break room for the doctors and the base director. They often gathered there to discuss their issues.<p>

Their conversations tended to fall somewhere between tense and outright contradictory. Although the young security guard couldn't exactly call any exchange a fight, it wasn't for a lack of trying on the doctors' parts. The only force keeping each incident on a reasonably civil level was the director's unwavering calm.

He hardly understood what they were discussing. It was only a more interesting distraction from the unchanging view on the security monitors showing the corridors and the edges of the jungle that encircled their facility.

Speaking of which, he cast an unceremonious glance towards the screens out of habit, and inhaled so sharply that he nearly choked on air. He turned quickly in his swivel chair and played with the controls until the desired picture reappeared.

"Director?" he beckoned unsurely.

The conversation ceased. Each face turned to the guard.

"Yes?" came the director's acknowledgment. The guard placed a finger against the paused footage of the fifth outdoor camera.

"I… That is, do we have any humanoid creatures stationed in the jungle?"

The doctors looked at one another. The director blinked serenely.

"No," he said. "This base has only produced mammalian and reptilian recombinants. Not a one has human DNA."

The guard frowned. "What about avian?"

A murmur rose amongst the whitecoats. Their sudden concern made the guard uneasy, and his worry was only increased by the way the director immediately approached the monitor bank and leaned close to see the black and white picture. His lips thinned into a line. Something about the wisp of pale hair, long limbs, and feathered appendages on the screen had touched the director in an unspecified way. Before the increasingly anxious guard could ask, the director turned away from him and to the microphone mounted on the desk.

He pressed the button on the intercom.

"Personnel to the roof."

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><p>Max pressed her back to the southern wall of the two-story facility and couldn't help noticing the wild brush that grew against it, as well as the badly chipped and flaking paint.<p>

"Yikes," she whispered. "Guess they forgot they still had some buddies here, huh?"

Gazzy frowned and scratched at an old, cracked panel of paint, which gave way beneath his finger and crumpled into dust atop a scraggly bush.

"I almost feel bad blowing them up," he lamented. "Like, it's just sadder, 'cause they're already…"

"Sad?" Iggy offered. Gazzy grinned and nodded.

"Okay, guys, time to focus," Max said. "Gazzy, remember to scurry like a little rat the second you get in there, 'kay? We need that alarm to get the people out."

"You know," Iggy added, "before the place goes ka-boom."

"Gotcha!" Gazzy said bravely, and, always her willing trooper, went about undoing the screws of a ventilation grate at their knees and hurried in. When she could no longer hear him rattling inside the metal ducts, Max steeled herself and tapped Iggy's hand.

"Ready for this? I'm countin' on you," she said, and moved to turn around the corner when Iggy grabbed her arm. Startled as well as irritated, Max looked back at him. Even in the dim night with only starlight to guide them, she could see worry on his face.

"What gives?" she snapped in a whisper.

"It's just… are you sure you're up for this? I mean, if you're not okay-"

Max balked. They had left the girls in a hotel to eliminate the odds of one of them getting hurt. As Nudge and Angel didn't have experience in explosives and did not provide the muscle power Max did, she'd demanded they stay out of the mission. Only Iggy and Gazzy were absolutely necessary.

She could not bear to lose another flock member. Now it seemed Iggy felt it was his duty to offer her support when there were no other girls present to be her emotional crutch, and no one else her age to be her second in command and confidant.

"Are you serious?" she hissed.

"Look, ever since what Fang and Dylan did-"

Beyond irritated and suddenly ready for bloodshed at the mentioning of those two names, Max wrenched her arm free and took off at a run around the corner before he could so much as protest. After a few seconds she could hear him running behind her, a loyal follow up rather than a chase, until they reached the eastern entrance.

A pair of poorly hinged double doors stood before them. Necessary confrontation turned to a reckless desire for violence, a need to break something. Max sprinted towards the doors without hesitation and kicked them in with a resounding _bang_ just as an alarm went off, accompanied by the periodic flashing of red light.

She stopped and blinked.

"Uh…"

"_Personnel to the roof. Evacuation in effect._"

Iggy came up beside her. "That doesn't sound like a fire alarm."

"Guess they saw us coming?"

There came a sudden wail, then: the screech of another alarm on top of the repeating demand that sounded over the intercom.

_That_ sounded more like the alarm they'd sent Gazzy in to set off.

"So," Iggy asked, "now what?"

Several whitecoats appeared in the corridor beyond the doors, running frantically to gather important belongings and papers. They didn't seem to notice the open doors and the two mutants standing just outside.

"We continue with the plan!"

Nodding, Iggy sprinted forward and spread his wings. He flew into the building at a low coast, and startled screams and protests erupted in the wake of his chaotic entrance. He whooped and laughed and sent carts and supplies clattering, then disappeared around a corner to wrangle out whatever whitecoats hid within the depths of those halls. Confident that his tactics would drive the few human stragglers out of their offices and away from the danger zone, Max sprinted into the building and shouldered roughly passed the few men and women hurrying about.

"Get a move on!" she shouted above the ruckus. "Move it or lose it, people! This place is going _down_!"

The couple of whitecoats still present fled in a hectic rush for an elevator at the end of the large corridor. Once she was satisfied that they'd gone, Max made her way toward the center of the facility. The pack she carried felt heavier as she ran deeper inward; the weight of an inferno was greater than the sum of its mechanics. It was the most power Iggy and Gazzy had put together in a single bomb yet, but would do its job best in the central labs where she hoped the chemical stores would provide that extra little _umph_.

When a Flyboy turned a corner to intercept her and fired off a shot, and the hot lead zipped by and into the top of her backpack with a burst of shredded nylon, Max felt her heart jolt painfully in her chest with dreadful expectancy.

When nothing burst against her back, Max ducked another shot and dove forward, the launch low to the ground, and slammed into the robot's stomach. It stumbled backward gracelessly before righting itself. Feeling fear and panic shoot through her, Max shrugged off her pack and cradled it closely to her chest, turned her back to the Flyboy, and sprinted on.

There was no reasoning with a robot. Still worse, a quick glance over her shoulder revealed that it had been joined by a friend. The flashing red bulbs mounted on the walls gave the entire chase a feeling more perilous than she wished. Looking forward again, Max grunted in surprise and turned just enough to slam into an oncoming Flyboy with her shoulder rather than the sack held tight in her arms. It hardly budged at the contact, and instead grabbed her shoulders tightly and shoved her back into the grasp of the other two that had finally caught up.

"Lay off!" Max snarled. With the pack hugged tightly to her middle, she high-kicked the first Flyboy in the jaw. Its head cracked backwards and it staggered, but remained upright with its skull tilted back and its shining eyes affixed to the ceiling.

An arm knocked into the side of her head with enough force to strike stars in her vision. Max stumbled to the side and smacked into the wall feeling as though her head had been split open. She tried to blink away the floating specks of silver brought on by the harsh blow while kicking out blindly. Something cracked against her boot. A mechanical knee, she hoped.

The hand of a remaining Flyboy grasped the sleeve of her jacket and wrenched her away from the wall. Screaming a string of obscenities, more concerned for the contents of her bag than the threat to her very breakable limbs, Max kicked and squirmed and bit as viciously as she could while her arms remained wrapped tightly around her burden.

The cracking of broken metal hinges rang in her ears.

The Flyboy whose head remained turned upward tumbled to the ground, its spinal flaw taken advantage of by a new attacker.

As it crumpled the smaller form behind it became visible. Silvery blue eyes met her stunned stare, light brown hair flashing crimson beneath the emergency lights.

Her stomach dropped. Here was a face she'd never expected to see again, each feature bringing to memory the cold German air, loss, pain, rage-

_Omega. _

The supremacy of genetic enhancement, the supposed_ peak_ of tampering, stood before her. He was a reminder of a terrible day so many months ago, and what her gut screamed was a suitable target for her pent-up temper and the grudge that remained against the long-gone Fang and Dylan.

"Director," the remaining Flyboys greeted neutrally. Disbelief stirred into anger. _Director?_ Max thought incredulously. Her muscles tensed.

"You-!" Max growled. That he'd felled the robot failed to matter. He was there in enemy territory for reasons unknown, but she was happy to assume that his presence marked him as evil.

She threw herself back against the Flyboy that held her. The other one remaining joined into the struggle, pushed back instantly by Max's lashing kicks, and fell back against a pair of hands made of genuine flesh. Omega's next actions were hidden from Max as her captor swung her around and slammed her down. To her horror, she landed hard atop the pack and the device within struck her ribs. A faint beep sounded from inside.

"Oh, crap," she breathed.

A hand touched down on her shoulder, and Max whirled and struck instinctively. Omega stepped deftly back from her strike and blocked another punch.

"Stop," he demanded calmly, "I am not here to attack you."

"Sorry," she scoffed, "I've already met my taking bullshit quota for the month!"

Positioned for an offensive launch, Max lunged forward to strike his throat. He swung to the side to evade, but did not take the opportunity of her pass to ground her. Rather, she heard another crunch of metal and turned to see that he had spun to take down an approaching Flyboy that had regained its composure.

Confusion led to a hot and consuming desire for misdirected aggression. The betrayal and hurt she'd carried the last month burst outward and fixed itself on his passive face. She roared in fury and attacked him once again, and again he easily blocked her efforts.

"Enough," he said. "We share the same endeavors. Besides, you cannot defeat me."

"You're weirdly proud for someone whose butt I've already kicked!"

Her hand swung upward and swiped passed his eyes as her other came around to strike his cheekbone, the same way she'd taken advantage of his tracking problem in Germany long ago.

He caught the punch in his palm, closed his hand around her fist, and yanked her forward.

Pulled close to the object of her violent outbreak and practically vibrating with the desire to destroy something, Max found herself pinned by his narrowed stare and the subdued yet present power that emanated from his lowered voice. The looming threat of an explosion hardly registered.

"You can't exploit a flaw which no longer exists," he said. At the disbelieving quiver of her open mouth, Omega released her hand and straightened. "We shouldn't fight. We are on the same side."

A high-pitched keening came from the pack she'd left on the ground. Max sucked in a breath and threw herself to her knees to hastily unzip her bag. A line of red numbers met her inspection.

And they were dwindling.

The bomb's countdown had been activated. Pinned between her and the ground, the timer was triggered, and now the numbers _00:0:55_ glared up at her as a bright and bloody red curse within the dark interior of its nylon sack. The loud beep had been a warning: the last minute was counting down. And with her mind still consumed by frenzied wrath, Max could barely contemplate remembering the sequence to shut it down. She rather thought the last few seconds remaining would be better spent running away.

"Maximum-"

"Zip it, Theta!" she spat. "I'd suggest hustling your butt and getting out of here if you don't feel like going up in smoke."

The fractional widening of his eyes and ambiguous glance he shot at the pack attested to his understanding of the situation. She turned and ran, and by the clapping of his soles on the tile flooring she knew he'd taken her threat seriously. There was a rustle, a click, and then static, and Max looked back to see that he'd taken a hand-held communicator from his pocket and lifted it within inches of his mouth.

"Chinooks lift off," he said clearly. "Clear area _immediately_."

Outside the starlight-swept clearing was under the sweeping draft created by the helicopters fleeing from the rooftop. A pair of Boeing CH-47 Chinooks had taken off, most certainly laden with human cargo. Max felt a brief stab of relief in her chest. A single human casualty was out of the question. Gazzy and Iggy had done their jobs in chasing the personnel from the building to get them beyond the explosion.

A scan of the night sky revealed the two stopped and waiting for her, braced for the oncoming pack of Flyboys that had been dispatched from the rooftop shortly after the Chinooks.

"Go!" she screamed. "Go, I'm right behind you!"

They dipped and rose, and she was heartened and relieved to watch them continue onwards away from the area, confident they could outrun the Flyboys making their way towards them.

Max sprinted across the clearing and hurriedly took to the air just as the first explosion shook the area. She cast a glance downward to see Omega fleeing into the jungle below her with a burst of heat and smoke chasing closely after him. He jumped and leapt impressively over the fence without pause and disappeared into the jungle growth.

Her wings pumped powerfully, cutting through the chilled evening winds, and she looked back towards a secondary explosion in time to watch a chunk of concrete rubble tossed into the air, but not in time to evade it.

It struck the top of her left wing with terrible force. The bone snapped and bent in a grisly manner. She choked back a shrill scream of agony that echoed through to her shoulder, through to every extension, and felt an overwhelming wave of nausea roll through her as the jungle raced upward to meet her plummeting form.

The canopy of green split with her graceless passage. Before Max could process the stinging of twigs and smacking of leaves against bare skin, her injured wing collided with a thick branch, the resulting pain so intense that for a blissful moment she lost consciousness.

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><p><strong>What will become of our heroes! A grimy, short-lived stay in the jungle, no doubt.<strong>

**Oh, Max. What a glamorous life you lead.**


	2. Chapter 2

Still own nothing, as all rights go to James Patterson, and another chapter edited by user AM83220.

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><p>Consciousness returned gradually, first in the form of physical feeling. The pain which greeted Max upon awakening was enough to make her stomach churn, but not so all-consuming that she couldn't feel the jerk of forward motion. Her feet were not touching the ground. Something hard and firm was curled beneath her shoulder blades and knees.<p>

It took her a moment to grasp that she was being carried, and the realization was humiliating enough to bring her eyes snapping open in horror. The dense African jungle met her wide gaze, as well as the collarbone of her carrier. A warm neck was pressed to her forehead.

Max pulled her face away to see the steady and determined countenance of Omega. Her head had fallen against his shoulder while she'd been out. He was carrying her through the dark jungle, away from the glowing haze of fire which was the Itex base, far off in the distance.

More than unhappy in the role of helpless damsel, Max opened her mouth to scathingly demand that he put her down when he suddenly knelt and placed her behind some brush. Far above she could hear the choppers passing overhead in retreat. The sound of their whipping blades quickly diminished from deafening to faint.

She must not have been unconscious long.

Once out of Omega's arms, she slammed her palm against his shoulder and shoved him away.

"What do you think you're doing?" she snapped. "Where the hell are you taking me?"

"There are still a few remaining Flyboys in the area," he said quietly. Max pursed her lips and resolved to lower her voice in case this was true. Omega paused for a second to glance back in the direction of the fiery remains of the demolished base. Blinking, he looked back down at her where they crouched in the protective screen of the foliage. "You fell from the sky."

"I'm aware," she said unhappily.

"I caught you," he went on. "We should lie low until the Flyboys pass."

"Why, so you can break my neck the second I turn my head?" she hissed, and stiffened when her pain-wracked broken wing gave a particularly awful twinge.

"I told you," Omega repeated in a whisper, "I don't want to fight you."

"Bull!" Their hushed argument reminded her achingly of Fang. There'd been a time not long ago when he would confront her in the dead of night, and despite the emotions fueling their squabbles they would never raise their voices above a whisper.

His eyebrows drew together in a frown.

"It's true," he insisted.

"Then what were you doing in that place? And as the _director_?" Max asked. He opened his mouth to respond, but she held her hand up and began to force herself to her feet. She had to leave and find the others, Iggy and Gazzy, to make sure they were all right. "You know what? Nevermind. I don't care. Just stay away from me."

Max managed several crouched steps away from Omega. Before she could so much as peer around the bushes to make sure the coast was clear for her getaway, however, the unrelenting pain in her wing weighed her down, and her knees met the jungle floor.

He leaned towards her.

"Your wing," he said simply. The glare she shot at him was enough confirmation for him, it seemed, as he pulled himself to her side despite her hostility. "Let me splint it."

"Oh, and I'm so sure you won't pluck me like a chick in the process!"

His resolute, unmoving position at her side, his refusal to give up, caused her shoulders to sag in defeat. There was actually little desire in her to allow her broken wing to heal wrongly. The last thing she wanted was to grow old with a deformed appendage attached uselessly to her back. The idea of never flying again . . . that was worse than death.

Besides, she could not get far in the jungle on her own while coping with this level of agony. At least if it was splinted the break wouldn't be jostled with every movement she made. Max gritted her teeth and nodded.

"Fine. Splint away."

Omega nodded and moved to peer around the plants that gave them cover. Apparently satisfied that whatever Flyboys had chased after them were not in the immediate area, he disappeared from her view, silent and quick, and Max sighed.

What a freaking horrible situation to be trapped in. Her gut told her his company would do nothing positive for her well-being. Even if he had caught and saved her from an unpleasant splatter, even if he'd fended off her robot attackers in the facility hall, even if he had offered to mend her wing…

Max shook the thoughts from her head and dismissed every act of heroism he'd displayed so far. He had been meant to kill her long ago. He was an enemy, and surely every act of valor would only end in betrayal. Omega's true intentions would reveal themselves before long, and Max needed to keep herself on guard.

The second his betrayal reared its ugly head, she'd be there with her hand fisted and her arm cocked back. It would not catch her unawares again.

Omega soon returned with a reasonably straight and sturdy piece of branch. He nestled himself back in the brush without a word, took the wood in his hands, placed the fingers of both hands between a crack in its center, and wrenched it in half lengthwise for a thinner stick. Max realized they had no bandages on them, and extracted the pocketknife from her jeans and flicked it open.

He stopped suddenly, watching her carefully.

"Chill," Max advised irritably, "I'm just tearing up my shirt so we have something to wrap the splint with."

But when she went to pull her shirt over her head, her black tank top underneath to provide plenty of cover, Max realized she could not take off the garment without tugging at her broken wing. And that was out of the question.

Omega held his hand out, palm up. She stared at it with dislike.

"The knife," he said. "I can cut your shirt away from the back."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Around your wings," Omega clarified. When still she stared him down, he raised an eyebrow and met her glare without fear. "If I wanted to hurt you, I could have done so while you were passed out."

The suggestive pause added what she knew they were both thinking: while she was passed out, in his arms.

She slapped the blade down in his upturned palm, resisting the temptation to give the weapon to him point first.

He made a quick job of it. Even with his skillful hands sawing through the fabric as carefully and efficiently as possible, the occasional yank on the shirt set her wing afire with agony again. Max ground her teeth and tensed until her muscles felt close to imploding. She made sure, however, that not a single whimper of pain escaped her.

The shirt fell away. She shook the sleeves off and let him rip the piece of clothing into strips, glad she still had the tank top for cover.

"Are you ready?" he asked. In response one shoulder lifted with defiant pride; Max didn't dare jostle her left.

"Just be quick about it."

Approximately five minutes later Max felt dizzy and sick enough to wish she'd never woken up in the first place. Her face was flushed with the strain of keeping quiet, as well as the stress of every touch and bend and resetting of the broken bone. Omega's hands were certainly nimble, but not enough to prevent the agony that flared with every touch.

Dizzied with pain, she groaned. "Oh, jeez-"

There was a sharp crack and something too fast to see burst through the bush which covered them, tracing a path through the leaves in a straight line between their heads. A bullet. Max had only time to think _Flyboys_ before Omega snatched her wrist in his vice-like grip and dragged her to her feet at a run. She nearly fell, unprepared for such vigorous action so soon, but quickly cleared her head and straightened her legs to sprint alongside him.

He glanced back to confirm that she was in decent enough shape to continue with him. Max forced a passive mask onto her face, but knew it was an inadequate effort when his eyes narrowed in dissatisfaction.

"Can you go on?" he asked, but didn't wait for an answer when another bullet whizzed by and smacked into the low-hanging branch directly over their heads. Instead he yanked her to the side and behind an enormous tree-trunk, grabbed her shoulders, and pushed her low to the ground. Max grunted.

"_Excuse_ you-"

"Quiet," he demanded brusquely.

Scowling, Max turned to look around the tree but was distracted by the tangled mess of roots which curled around their feet. The soft earth around them dipped as it neared the tree, forming a hollow dip beneath the massive trunk that one might fit under. Prodding Omega to gain his attention, Max drew his eyes to the shallow depression amongst the roots and received a nod of understanding. Several pairs of heavy feet were nearing them. The Flyboys would be upon them any second.

She took a fistful of his shirt and proceeded to jam him carelessly into the crawl-space despite his soft grunts of protest and flailing.

"_Quiet_," she hissed back mockingly.

The rustling grew louder. The Flyboys were but a few yards away, and her heartbeat grew steadily quicker as they drew nearer. Omega settled quietly in the hollow, invisible amongst the shadows and immense, twisting roots, and Max drew a sharp breath of dread as their pursuers gained on their tracks.

A hand appeared from inside the hollow and snatched the front of her jacket, and with a strangled squawk she was yanked down into the space with Omega. Her head smacked against a winding root on the way down, and she rolled onto her stomach in the low, cramped space beside him covered in soil. With her perfect vision she could just barely catch the vengeful quirk to his lips and elbowed him roughly in retaliation.

His body jerked in response, but to his credit Omega made no sound. Which Max found to be fortunate, as the Flyboys chose then to run directly passed their hiding place so closely that she could see the frayed straps of their boots.

The jungle soon grew silent of the Flyboys hunting, and Max sagged into the cool soil and rubbed the tender side of her head that had smacked against the tree.

"Thanks a lot," she spat. Omega remained unperturbed.

"You're welcome."

Only minimally grateful that her injured wing had not suffered the safe fate as her skull, Max examined what they could see of the jungle floor from their lower vantage point.

"Do you see them?" Omega whispered. Sighing, Max shook her head.

"All clear on the murderous robots front," she informed. "Maybe they'll just keep going deeper and deeper in."

"The night is nearly over," said Omega. "We will stay here until morning in case they circle back in our direction."

"I'm not sleeping here with you."

"Then I will rest, and you can forgo any recuperation and act as watch."

He folded his arms beneath him as a pillow and turned away without any further discussion. While Max was certain he would not allow himself to fall asleep in such a compromising situation with only her as his companion, the temptation to beat his infuriatingly flawless face against something made her so restless that the she was sure sleep would never come for her either.

She settled for seething in her own anger at landing in this ridiculous predicament. Omega had accomplished little in the way of gaining her trust. _On her side_, she nearly laughed at the idea. The only ones on her side were the Flock, and she'd recently learned she couldn't even depend on all of them.

Ruthlessly Max shoved those memories aside, focusing once more on her immediate problem. She gave Omega a final look of suspicion before resting her head upon her arms as he had. Even with half of it already past, this was going to be a long night.

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><p>To those of you waiting for an update on Emotions, it will come soon, I promise!<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Oh my, thanks for the encouraging reviews, all. It certainly helped push me to get this out.**

**As always I own nothing beyond this work of fanfiction, and thank you to user AM83220 for valiantly pressing on as my beta reader!**

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><p>Dawn came, yet with the jungle's thick canopy of leaves only a dim light was filtered through to the ground. Max rubbed at her tired eyes, having never given in to slumber, and glanced sourly at the still boy at her side, whose back rose and fell sedately. She assumed he had allowed himself to fall asleep hours ago, but with his face turned away from her it was impossible to know.<p>

She had been too long in that low, cramped space, and Max was buzzing with anxiety and claustrophobia. She spent an extra minute listening and watching for any Flyboys from her position, then slowly and quietly crawled back up onto the jungle floor and straightened with a heavy inhale of thick, muggy air, which she immediately coughed back up.

Lovely.

Stretching, all too aware of the lingering ache in her injured wing, Max sighed to herself and turned back to the giant tree they'd spent the night under, only to be met by a pair of yellow eyes inches from her face.

Covered in shining green and black scales and bigger around than she was, an anaconda hung from branches high above her head, yards of winding body having descended to her level to hang before her.

Max felt her muscles tense, her back instinctively arching away from the giant beast, and a small, embarrassing squeak escaped her throat.

The predator lunged forward at the sound.

Something pierced the flesh of her shoulder even as she turned to run, but the needle-like fangs grasped and yanked her backwards and onto the ground. Scrambling back to her feet, Max saw the bloodied holes in her sleeve, felt the burning pain in the puncture wounds, and knew she'd been bitten.

Was she already as good as dead? She couldn't remember which snakes were poisonous and which ones weren't. All she knew was that if she remained here she had no chance of survival. The human-avian hybrid took off at a sprint away from the creature.

"Snake!" she screamed, belatedly realizing that she was leaving her companion asleep and helpless. If it found their crawl space, slithered down to where Omega slept… "Wake up! _Omega-_!"

The floor of vegetation rustled behind her. It was pursuing her, gliding swiftly across the ground to catch her. God, but she hated snakes. Hated everything about them, even feared them, with their awful, twisted bodies, their terrible eyes, those nasty forked tongues-

Tension built within her: the familiar fear of a chase, the pressure of fleeing from a pursuer, the swarm of crazed butterflies that built in one's stomach from the promise of being pounced upon. These feelings grew and grew until the monster snake lunged at her and slammed into her ankles.

Max fell to the ground with a grunt, flailing with urgent panic to regain her footing, but before she could do so something thick and impossibly strong encircled her ankles. Then her calves, too, were bound. She tried to stand up or roll over, but was unable to and the serpent took advantage of her wriggling to continue wrapping itself around her hips and abdomen.

It was encircling her almost completely now. Her legs and arms were pinned, her breath releasing itself in curses as her wings, too, became pressed tightly. The broken of the two flared with awful pain.

Only just morning, and already something sought to end her.

Such was life. _Her_ life, at least.

Max found it harder to struggle when the anaconda began to constrict. Her breath rushed from her completely as the slithering thing tightened, wrung her flesh and bones until her screams were silent, her mouth agape in unspoken pain. Tears were squeezed from her eyes with the pressure and agony. Everything felt on the brink of snapping and condensing to mush.

The jungle grew blurry in her eyes. The edges of Max's vision became black with what she suspected to be death pressing in.

Surprisingly, the last thing she thought was, _Fang, you bastard! How could you?_

But there came a hiss, and then the most terrible cracking sound she'd ever heard. At first Max suspected it was her own bones finally giving way to the snake's binding, but the pressure she was feeling eased before ebbing almost completely, and she sucked in oxygen with all the gusto of a starved child given bread.

Omega stood towering above her sorry, half-suffocated form.

Max felt her chest heave painfully with the effort of regaining her breath and tried to blink the world back into clarity, but only slowly did the shadows in her sight recede. The snake's body was slack in loose rings around her, and its head, beneath Omega's foot, was crushed flat.

"You-" she gasped, but could only cough.

Omega leaned downward and grabbed her arms to pull her from the heap of the anaconda's lifeless body. She kicked at it as he wordlessly helped to free her.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She sat up on the jungle floor and began to calm her breathing. His hands moved from her biceps to her shoulders, and he knelt there and watched as she reclaimed her composure.

"I'm fine," she told him unhappily, weakly batting his hands away. Her entire body ached terribly. "For someone who was almost snake chow, I'd say I'm peachy."

"For someone who was almost snake chow," he quipped, "you are appropriately filthy."

Her mouth fell open a fraction at the comment. She looked down at herself and saw that she was indeed covered in dirt from the struggle and looking much the worse for wear. Her hair was most likely in twig-littered knots.

"Sorry we can't all be as dainty as you," Max bit back. "Not everyone can emerge from under a tree looking freshly showered."

It was a bitter exaggeration, as Omega's front, which he had slept on, was anything but pristine. In fact he was even dirtier than she had been after crawling out from their space. Had he rumpled and stained his clothing more than she had in his haste to escape the hiding spot? Perhaps he had forced himself too quickly from his sleeping place to come to her aid…

"Took you long enough to wake up, anyway," she added. It was simpler to be difficult than to let her mind wander any further down that path.

"And it didn't take you long at all to get yourself in trouble," Omega shot back easily. He idly wiped the bloodied sole of his shoe against the earth, rubbing away the remains of the serpent's brains. Max nearly shuddered.

"Well aren't we Captain Comebacks today?" she sneered.

Rather than respond he brushed a thumb over one of the puncture wounds on her shoulder where the beast had bitten her. His touch smeared blood. At the look of renewed fear on Max's face-she had nearly forgotten the dumb thing had bitten her-he calmly said, "Anacondas are not poisonous."

She blinked. "Oh."

"A bath," he said. Blinking again, she could only stare as he watched her with cool, silver eyes. "It still needs cleaning. And your wing will be in worse shape. Resetting it may be necessary."

The color drained from her face, but she forced a brave front. The appendage did throb something terrible. Letting him so much as look at it promised pain.

"And where, oh jungle king, am I supposed to do that?"

"In a spring."

"You don't say!"

His eyes narrowed at her persistent uncooperativeness. Pursing her lips, as he had just sort of saved her life…a little…Max watched as he offered a hand in acceptance of her chastised scowl and let him pull her to her feet. No more words needed to be said as he went on walking towards what she assumed would be a source of clean enough water.

It didn't take long.

At the presence of a decent-looking spring just two miles from where they'd slept, Max side-eyed Omega with a look of suspicion and mild disbelief.

"You really know this jungle," she intoned.

"I have been at this base for a while," he replied. "I know the area well enough."

"Hmm."

She pressed her side to a tree and began to remove her boots. Where she'd left him standing, Omega turned to watch her.

"You still don't believe me," he accused. "That I am on your side."

"I believe that about as much as I believe the anaconda just wanted to cuddle."

He said little more until she turned her head at the sound of rustling fabric. He had removed his shirt, leaving only an undershirt beneath, and was beginning to kick off his own shoes.

Her face burned.

"What are you doing?" she asked. He lifted an eyebrow at her and pulled the undershirt off in one fluid motion. She found herself noticing how the jungle light played across his tanned and admittedly chiseled torso.

"Do you bathe with your clothes on?" Omega asked casually. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish's.

"No, and I sure as heck don't take baths with guys I don't even like!"

He copied her noncommittal "hmm" from moments before.

"Then pretend to like me for now," offered Omega, and he pushed off his pants.


	4. Chapter 4

**Another chapter, another disclaimer stating that I do not own Maximum Ride in all its confused glory of a mess. **

**I only partly own this fic, even, as AM83220 continues to provide his services as my beta reader and much of story. Many thanks to him, as always, and also to those who are enjoying our efforts!**

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><p>Max barely managed to convince Omega to leave his boxers on. Their clothes, he reasoned, would never dry in the muggy jungle air, so she stood stiffly in the water with only her bra and underwear for cover as he worked at her wing again.<p>

Once finished with the job Omega gently washed away the dried blood from the puncture wounds on her shoulder. He assured that they were not terribly deep and would heal quickly.

"I've never seen a snake that big," Max said awkwardly.

"It was large," he agreed. "Most likely it was one of our own."

"One of yours?" she echoed in disbelief. "What do you mean, one of yours? Is that what you were doing in that facility? Making those things?"

"That facility raised multiple breeds of enhanced and recombinant exotic animals. We had several anacondas," he said, "as well as two new breeds of jungle cat, and a more aggressive strain of baboon."

"You guys were busy," Max muttered.

"The facility's primary goal was research," he said. "The animals were a security measure placed around the building to ward off would-be intruders. The fence around us kept them from harming the faculty."

"So they're just roaming around out here?"

"The nearest human colony is well beyond their territory," he said, as if sensing her concerns. "By the time we reach anything resembling civilization we will be out of their reach."

Omega finished washing her wound and stepped back to give her some space. He watched her calmly and began to run the water over himself, ridding his muscled arms of dirt, his chiseled chest of grime, and his abs of sweat, his eyes remaining locked on hers throughout the process. Only after he'd almost cleaned himself completely did Max realize she was no longer staring him down out of hostility, but out of something else.

She put on an especially haughty look to make up for the heat rising to her face.

"So," she began, "_Director_. What gives?"

"Gives?" he asked somewhat dryly, and she thought she saw a small spark of amusement in his stare. He must have noticed the stain of pink across her cheeks at the sight of him nearly naked.

"What's the deal? What were you doing in that place anyway, and why are you pretending to help me now?"

"Interesting," said Omega. "I didn't realize I was only pretending to wrap your wing. Or that I pretended to rescue you from that anaconda."

"You know what I mean!" she said hotly. "What's your plan? We're not friends. You tried to kill me last time we saw each other-"

"And I failed," he cut in. Her voice faded, chased away by confusion and distrust. He blinked serenely. "Didn't I, Maximum?"

"Yeah. Pretty bad, even. I was almost embarrassed for you."

His brow knit together in a frown. He broke eye contact and went on scrubbing himself free of filth.

Feeling awkward, she began to gingerly rub herself down. His precious snake had done some damage, to be sure, and though her body was tender and raw from bruising it was nothing a day of good old-fashioned mutant regeneration wouldn't take care of.

By the time his level voice broke the silence she had nearly forgotten to be self-conscious in her underthings.

"It's been a long time."

Max kept her eyes on the surface of the spring. "I guess."

"People change."

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying something cutting.

"Their motivations change," he went on. "Their alliances."

"I've got enough allies, jungle boy."

"Oh? Half of your flock was not there."

"The girls were somewhere safe," she said tightly.

"And your dark friend?"

His observation froze her. Her dark companion; with his olive skin, black hair, black wings, black everything. No, he had not been there with her as Iggy and Gazzy had been. Fang was not _with her_ anymore.

But then neither was Dylan.

He took her silence meaningfully.

"How many friends are left, Maximum? I know now how easy it is to lose your ally's favor. I have learned what it is to have a bridge burned, and to be turned from an asset to a liability."

A lump had formed in her throat. Pain, anger; whatever it was, it choked her, and she could only watch Omega and wonder what had happened to him after she'd escaped the castle in Germany. What did he know of betrayal? How had the Director taken his defeat?

She turned from him, turned from the threat of unpleasant emotions, and waded through the spring to escape her confusion. Yet as she bent down to retrieve her clothing she could hear him emerge from the water to stand behind her.

Behind her in thin white boxers soaked through with water. She realized she was no better off, as her cotton undergarments provided little in the way of covering. Her face burned, and she awkwardly wrapped her bundle of clothes around herself before turning to face him.

"Would you get _dressed_? Your…everything is showing!" she blustered. Omega regarded her with one finely arched eyebrow, then turned without shame and began to pull his clothing back on.

"We should return to the facility."

Her back to him, Max hastily yanked her shirt on.

"You mean that pile of rubble?" she said meanly. "Home sweet home?"

He showed no anger at her goading.

"What you left of it, yes."

"So your whitecoat buddies can come rescue their golden boy?" Max asked. "Thanks, but I'm fine without some big _super nerds _reunion in my life."

"They won't be coming for me," said Omega. "I thought it more likely that your flock would search for you there."

She turned to face him in time to see his head emerge from the collar of his shirt. "They have the girls to get back to," said Max. "I made sure they knew that before we came."

He only stared. She snorted and busied herself with braiding her hair.

"They probably think I'm dead, anyway. They'll just have to wait 'til I can find a village with a phone." There was a pause. "Why won't your nerd buddies come looking for _you_?"

Pulling his boots on, Omega turned in the direction of his lab and began to walk. "A rescue is the last thing they would attempt on my behalf," he said over his shoulder. "More likely, they are the ones who have instructed the Flyboys to hunt us."

Unsure of how to respond to that, it was surprise that led her suddenly forward and after him.

"You're really into this switching sides story of yours, aren't you?"

He spoke on as though unconcerned with her insistent skepticism. "We are unprepared to journey through this jungle by ourselves. There may be something left at the site that we can use to our advantage."

"You keep using this 'we' word," said Max. "Why don't you just take off by yourself? It's not like I asked you to join the wounded bird girl team."

Omega said nothing. He simply cast her a look which she could not decipher and moved onward in the direction of the lab. For a few seconds Max debated wandering off his path and going on her own, but then she remembered the anaconda's head beneath his boot, his arms as he carried her pathetic and unconscious body away from the explosion, and how he had helped her evade the Flyboys.

Remembered the gentleness of his hands as he bandaged her wing.

So apparently he was good for something, and she'd have a hard time traversing the jungle on her own with a broken wing.

If nothing else, Max reasoned, she could use Omega as a meat shield.

They took their time to listen for enemies, carefully navigated the unruly terrain, weighed down slightly by aches and bruises, yet managed to reach the site within the hour. The rubble appeared undisturbed. Wisps of smoke still arose from the enormous pile, as did crumbling bits of pillars and support beams, and even a few stretches of battered wall. Mostly it was debris and mess everywhere.

Omega neared the fence that stood between them and the lab and slowly raised a hand to it. "The electrical current has shut off," he observed. "The energizer that powered this fence must have been destroyed by your bomb."

"Sorry," Max said, though her tone betrayed her insincerity.

"Don't be," he replied. "You managed in minutes what I was working towards for over a month."

Frowning, she watched as he climbed nimbly over the fence and dropped into the yard around the facility. She realized that must have been why he had jumped so impressively over it when running from the explosion: to avoid a nasty shock. She and the boys had just flown over.

She scaled the fence as Omega moved onward to the rubble and began to rifle through what he could. Max dropped into the yard and followed after him, still untrusting, still wondering what drove him to accompany her and act as her companion.

His hands worked past fallen bricks and chunks of cement, arms pushing aside entire slabs of wall. She decided to go to his side and assist in the shifting of a particularly large hunk of debris.

Her help drew his eyes back to her.

"No more bullcrap, Omega," she told him. He paused in his work and faced her. "No more avoiding. No more secrets."

"I am not the one who has avoided the truth."

"Yeah, yeah, you changed sides, so on and so forth." Her dismissal drew something unpleasant to his face. A defensive look, almost. She braced herself and sat down on a protruding piece of broken wall, there on the edge of the shattered building's remains. "So I'm listening now. I wanna know why I should believe you. I wanna know why you were here."

"You want to know why you should trust me," Omega clarified.

They watched one another. Max wondered what he was thinking, if anything. She wondered if his mind was filled with treachery and lies as she suspected; as she suspected of everyone these days, really. Or, she wondered, was the unwavering strength of his gaze grounded by truth? He didn't blink at all, and his intensity began to fluster her.

"Spill it," she demanded. "You haven't been real clear on everything." Her eyes narrowed. "But you've helped me out more than once already. If you're not lying, which I _doubt_, what's your game? What's it all for?"

Omega took his time settling down on a piece of collapsed drywall. He sat across from her, straight-backed and serious, and refused to buckle under the heat of her glare. It reminded her of the first time she'd seen him in Germany. The prodigy boy without feeling.

She'd thought so, anyway.

"Maximum," he said after a beat, "it was for you."


	5. Chapter 5

**Wow I thought I posted this the other day, and then remembered I was having login issues. But here it is! New and sparkly and edited (and encouraged) by the ever patient AM83220. I owe him many thanks. There'd be a lot of derps in these chapters if it weren't for him. **

**Enjoy!**

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><p>The bombing site was quiet. Aside from the occasional chirping of an exotic bird or the suspicious but thus far benign rustling in the jungle growth beyond the yard, there was surprisingly little noise for a place that had gone up in flame and smoke just some hours ago.<p>

The silence that hung between them, however, held all the intensity of that explosion, until Max finally forced herself to break it.

"You said I couldn't exploit a flaw that doesn't exist anymore."

Having spent the last ten minutes staring at the ground, Omega's pale blue eyes immediately lifted back to her face at those words.

"My inability to track quick movement, you mean."

"Exactly what I mean," she said. "So, what, you got new eyes?"

"Essentially." There was a subtle shift in him, like a dark step downward from invulnerability to dejection. "But by that time the Director was too disgusted with me for it to be enough."

"Her golden boy wasn't so golden anymore, huh?"

His chest rose and fell heavily. She thought he might have sighed.

"No," he admitted. "One would have thought I was a parasite with the way she treated me after our fight."

Max snorted, familiar with that feeling.

"Welcome to the club."

He side-eyed her at that. The faint bitterness in his expression suddenly vanished, and in its place lay something calculating.

"Maximum, I-"

He stopped, his mouth still open as he searched for the right words. "After the operation to fix my vision, I was treated no differently than the other experiments. I began to experience first hand the cruelty and inhumane handling they underwent on a daily basis, and at times…" He struggled with himself, jaw clenching. "At times _I _administered that brutality under her orders."

Max felt some disgust knot in her stomach at the thought of Omega abusing the other children. It would have been easier to see him as the heartless killing machine she'd once thought him to be, but with everything that had happened since the night before it was becoming more difficult not to see him as another victim, his hand driven by a desperate longing for approval.

"You still wanted her to love you," Max accused. Self-loathing crossed his face.

"I saw soon that it was useless. Once I failed to fulfill the purpose she gave me, I became trash."

She could not think of a helpful or encouraging response. Assure him he was more, put a companionable hand upon his shoulder? Comfort her former enemy? She had to settle for watching and listening to him. She had to understand why he was protecting her in that jungle.

"We fled to a hideaway base during the worldwide riot on Itex, but the police eventually found us there, too, and arrested her," he said. "She was imprisoned before she could ever tell her colleagues that I was no longer worth anything to her. But all that time I watched the experiments die, or be killed, or be used, I began to think of you."

She couldn't hide her surprise.

"Me?" Max asked, incredulous. He nodded.

"I finally understood why you defied her and wanted to put an end to things. With the Director gone I had my chance to do the same, so I stole her computer and escaped while the police raided her facility."

Finding herself more and more impressed, Max whistled. "Must've been a lot of juicy stuff on there," she said. "All kinds of info to get her put away for life."

"More than enough," he agreed, "but that wasn't why I took it. There was extensive information there regarding other facilities. Where they were and how they worked, as well as the details of their research. Things the Director would only want certain people to know.

"No one had gotten word that I wasn't her favorite anymore. When I arrived at the first lab, they only remembered me as her right-hand mutant. Her perfect tool. They assumed I would do in her place what she could not do herself from prison. So I inserted myself as Director."

Her mind began to reel with the information, and her lips parted with shock. "That's why you were there in the lab," she murmured. Her voice grew more steady. "You've been sabotaging them from the inside!"

"It wasn't always easy," admitted Omega. "My decisions often weakened the facilities; budget cuts, reduced security, retiring prestigious geneticists. A reputation began to precede me with each lab I moved onto, but they could never prove it was me who led the FBI to them, or caused the explosions, or set the children free in the dead of night. This station, here in the jungle, was the most difficult. They hardly trusted me at all, which is why I was never passed control of the Flyboys."

"You sneaky devil," Max said in awe. He raised his chin a little as if empowered by her remark.

"I learned from the best, as they say." Omega looked at her pointedly. She felt a surge of warm pride and couldn't hold back a smile.

"You really did all this because of me?" she asked. "Most people aren't that inspired after having their butts handed to them."

"I did it because it was…right." Omega locked his eyes on hers, fierce and intimate and causing her great discomfort. "You, Maximum, were my inspiration, for lack of a better word."

She swallowed. "I think inspiration's a good enough word."

Something shown beneath his apathetic mask, something that had too much difficulty breaking through a lifetime of being taught to feel nothing.

"You spared my life."

"Yeah, well," she said lamely.

"I told you a person's alliances can change." He stood and brushed himself off, and hesitated before speaking again. "Mine changed. I took on your endeavors as my own." A hand was offered to her. "And I can be your ally, Maximum, if you allow yourself to trust me. I would not leave your side."

Her chest ached at that. Fang and Dylan had vowed the same and failed. Yet that hand remained outstretched to her, an offering that spoke of too much, and almost out of spite or out of vengeance towards those two she took it. He lifted her up easily.

Funny, the way the world turned.

"We'll see," she said.

They spent hours together rifling through the debris. He seemed satisfied enough with his explanation of things, yet her mind went on wondering, questions chasing each other through her head. Was it enough, she wondered; was rejection enough to change a person's heart? Or had his heart even needed changing?

He hadn't been particularly evil back then, in all truth. He'd been more like a confused boy crushed under the weight of the Director's despotic shadow, eager to please by any means.

She shoved a large heap of crumbling concrete aside and sifted through the dusty pile of junk beneath it.

Maybe he'd rebuilt himself. It could be possible that experiencing the sick handling she'd known well as a child was enough to kick his mind and intentions in a better direction. Omega had the power and knowledge to make a difference, and by his account he'd taken full advantage of those gifts.

And now the jungle. Her own efforts had compromised his position; he'd revealed himself the moment he defended her from the Flyboys inside the facility. It was no wonder the robots were after them. The whitecoats must have trained them on Omega to finish him off if they were as suspicious of him as he claimed. What harm was there in killing him? With the Director in prison they had no wrath to face as a consequence, and even if she did still care for her precious boy his death could easily be staged as Max's own fault.

"Have you found anything?"

His voice jolted Max from her thoughts, and almost out of guilt for becoming distracted she dove her hands into the dust and rubble and dug enthusiastically.

"Not yet," she called back. "What about you? Any weapons, food? A jet pack maybe?"

"Nothing so advanced," he replied. "But-"

"_Augh_!"

Quick footsteps had Omega immediately at her side where she crouched and tried to shake her hand free of a throbbing pain.

"You hurt yourself," he observed.

"No," she said irritably, "I just stubbed my finger on something."

He eyed her index finger where the tip had reddened, and looked to the spot where her digging had left an impression. A corner of white plastic stuck out amongst the junk. He reached in and freed it with a single tug, and Max forgot the annoying ache at the sight of a red cross on the face of the box he'd extracted.

"Yes!" she hissed victoriously. "I should've been in the California gold rush."

"It is a lucky find," said Omega. He flipped it open. The supplies inside appeared fully stocked, with bandage rolls, disinfectant, tweezers, and all sorts of goodies that Max had come to appreciate over her lifetime.

He clasped the box back shut and laid it down, and it was then that she noticed the elongated hunk of shrapnel in his hand.

"You found a new toy," she said. He lifted the twisted steel for her eyes. It must have been ripped from a support beam, she guessed, or the workings in the ceiling. The center was warped enough from the bomb's heat to provide a grip without cutting his hand, with a foot of the end suitable for spearing or hacking.

"It will do."

Omega set the piece down beside the first aid kit and took her hand in both of his without asking. Max made a face in return, unhappy with the liberty he was taking, but silenced her complaints as he carefully examined her throbbing index finger and ran the pads of his thumb and forefinger along the bones.

"You at least did not break it."

"Hoorah," she said without enthusiasm. His mouth quirked ever so faintly into an almost-half-smile, and still without releasing her hand he met her eyes once more, though his face was much closer that time.

The icy blue of his eyes flickered back and forth minutely. Searching, she thought; he was searching her face for something, but she maintained a neutral mask.

"It's been a long time, Maximum." The warmth of his hand against hers became too real, skin against skin too severe of a texture and his voice too clear in her ears, until Max very slowly had to slide her fingers free from his gentle hold.

"Since the explosion, you mean."

Omega blinked at that, but paused long enough to decipher her hint, and withdrew.

"Yes," he said, though by his expression she knew he was not fooled by her playing dumb to evade closeness. He picked up his makeshift spear, and she her first aid kit, and after a beat of an awkward staring match they followed one another back towards the jungle.

Max chewed on her lip and dared not look at him lest his face reveal something she was not willing to see. He'd offered up so much already by way of explanation and had made himself vulnerable in the process, but she was not ready to share the ache that kicked her motivations into overdrive. More than that, she was not able to believe in someone again. She was not going to lower her guard to anyone, not again. She couldn't afford to with what little faith she had been left to scrounge together.


End file.
